


A thousand different meanings unfold

by glim



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Canon Era, Community: summerpornathon, F/F, Half-Sibling Incest, Team Gluttony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-07
Updated: 2013-08-07
Packaged: 2017-12-22 16:31:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/915466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glim/pseuds/glim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>When Morgause calls Morgana sister, the world slips from her mouth so easily as if she's been saying it all her life.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	A thousand different meanings unfold

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Summer Pornathon 2013 Challenge 5: Canon Era.

i.

Morgana keeps everything from Morgause in a tiny box of dark wood inlaid with ivory. There isn't much--a few short letters, gently curving penmanship on scraps of paper; a few pieces of jewelry, simple and finely wrought; and a ribbon of silk that she'd wear wound in her hair or around her neck if not for the fear of losing it. 

She keeps them in the box not only to hide them away from the world but also to hide them from herself. A rare preciousness permeates them that Morgana is just beginning to understand and that she fears could overwhelm her.

 

ii.

When Morgause calls Morgana sister, the world slips from her mouth so easily as if she's been saying it all her life.

Perhaps she has; perhaps she's kept the knowledge and memory of Morgana hidden away, strange and precious, and has said the word to herself a thousand times over, giving it a different meaning each time. 

When Morgause calls her sister and touches her, fingertips trailing over Morgana's face down her neck to her breasts, Morgana shivers. She leans into the touch, begging for the warmth of Morgause's fingers and lips, for the security and certainty that nobody has ever offered to her. 

 

iii.

"The throne of Camelot will be yours," Morgause says, her blond hair falling down her back as she unpins it, "but that's not the most important thing." 

Morgana stretches her hand toward Morgause to beckon her to bed. Sunrise is still a few hours away and the candles in their bedchamber have melted into pools of wax. "Not the most important thing tonight."

"No." Morgause sits down on the edge of bed to let Morgana disarm her--boots and mail and gauntlets, all the physical trappings of power that she hardly needs to keep her safe, her magic is that strong. "Not tonight, not any night."

Once she's stripped down to her tunic and breeches, Morgause tugs Morgana down onto the bed with her and kisses her lips, just softly. Then she kisses Morgana again, this time with force and passion, her tongue sliding into Morgana's mouth and her hands sliding up to cup Morgana's breasts. Her kisses remain firm, and even become rough as she mouths along the curve of Morgana's breasts, teeth skimming over the nipples and tongue dampening the thin shift Morgana wears. 

Morgause has the body of a warrior, slim and strong, but it's her magic that Morgana feels when Morgause touches her like this. Magic, and the shape of her own name on Morgause's lips when Morgause licks inside her. She brings Morgana to climax so fast and so hard that Morgana cries out, dizzy with the rush of sudden need. 

 

iv. 

Sometimes she hears a kind of reverence in Morgause's voice, a wonder and disbelief that Morgana is there with her, that she is hers to call sister and to hold at night. 

Sometimes, she thinks, for Morgause, she is an unfulfilled promise or prophecy, a possibility that has not yet come to fruition: the sister she grew up without, the sorceress she's waited years to find. 

Morgana's never had a sister; she's never had anyone hold her hand quite that tight, as if they could lose her at any moment; she's never had anyone she needed to be this close to, whose blood thrummed in their veins the same way Morgana's did in hers. Someone whose meaning in her life could be summed up in one word with a thousand different meanings. 

 

v. 

There is one letter that Morgana had to burn lest anyone find it. The scrap that's left is charred along the edge, the paper brittle and the ink faded with heat. 

It doesn't matter that the context is missing, because there is no one context for these words that Morgana needs to recall. 

_You are the most important._


End file.
